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by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Family, Friendship, Moving Out, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After moving into her first apartment, Melinda realises she's lost something incredibly important. For the 'Philinda Bad Days' challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD or any of its characters, or settings - all belongs to Marvel and ABC.
> 
> This was written for the 'Philinda Bad Days' challenge. The prompt was: "Melinda loses the only piece she kept in memory of her father." I hope you enjoy! : )

For most of her adult life, Melinda May had lived out of a duffel bag. She’d carted it back and forth from the Academy; shoving in books, clothes, the occasional photograph or ornament. When she came home, it would take less than an hour to unpack. But her final trip from the Academy would take a little longer. Gone was the duffel bag. Instead, it had been replaced by a mountain of cardboard boxes; each with a hastily scrawled word on the side.

 

“Hey, Melinda, where do you want this?”

 

Melinda turned from the stack of boxes in her new living room to observe her best friend struggling through the door. He was carrying her photography equipment, his knuckles white as he tightly clutched the sides. She rushed over to him, gently easing it from his hands.

 

“I’ve got it.” Melinda slid it down in a safe place. “Thanks for helping, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

 

Phil buried his hands in his pockets, shoulders lifting up in a shrug. “You’re welcome. You helped me move in last week, it’s only fair that I return the favour. We’re getting pizza tonight, right?”

 

Melinda snorted as Phil beamed, chuckling at his joke. “Actually, Mom was talking about going out to dinner. She wanted to celebrate me moving into my first place. You’re more than welcome to come, you know. I’m sure Mom won’t mind.”

 

“It’s okay. It should be a family thing.”

 

She stared at Phil over the tops of the boxes. “Phil, you _are_ family. I’m sure Mom won’t mind.” Melinda looked up to see Lian May bringing in a few garment bags and the new tea set that was her housewarming present. “Hey, Mom, is it okay if Phil joins us for dinner tonight?”

 

“If he would like to accompany us.”

 

Her mother walked into the small kitchen, busying herself by preparing their tea. When she turned back to Phil, it was his turn to give her thelook. The _told-you-so_ look. Melinda just smirked, reaching into one of the boxes for the books she needed to stack. Whilst Phil was adamant that her mother disliked him, Melinda knew it was quite the opposite. It had taken some time, and several long conversations, but eventually her mother had come around. She and Phil were the two most important people in her life. She wanted them to get along. But not too much. The last thing Melinda needed was for Phil to be her mother’s eyes and ears now that she had moved out.

 

It wasn’t just her mother who was worried about her moving to the big city. Melinda was a little nervous too.  But SHIELD had found her a nice place to live in D.C, only a bus journey away from her SO if she got into trouble. When she’d first walked into her new place, she’d felt a dull ache in the bottom of her stomach. But with her clothes in the wardrobe, her books on the shelves, and the smell of her mother’s tea wafting through the apartment, this place was starting to feel like home already.

 

“Not bad, huh?” Melinda said, lounging back on the sofa. “I think I could really like it here.”

 

Phil grinned as they looked over her nearly furnished apartment. “It’s going to be great. Still think you should have moved into my building.”

 

“We’re going to be seeing each other plenty as it is. There’s no need for us to be neighbours too. It’s not like I’d ever have a cup of sugar for you to borrow anyway.” They laughed, Melinda leaning over to rest her head on Phil’s shoulder as he sat beside her. “Thank you for your help, I really mean it.”

 

“Any time.” He passed her his bottle of water, and she took a small sip. “I think we’ve just got two boxes left. More of your clothes.”

 

Melinda shook her head. “No, no there’s another box. Ornaments and paperwork.”

 

“The last two boxes just say clothes.”

 

Melinda felt a chill wash over her. Standing up from the sofa, Melinda fled to the remaining two boxes. She checked the labels; both had ‘ _clothes’_ scribbled in messy black marker on the side. Melinda opened them up to make sure, her hands digging down through fabric just to check.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

Melinda swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. “Everything’s fine. I just thought there was another box.” Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Melinda turned back to Phil. “You haven’t come across a little wooden box, have you? Silver catch, Chinese characters carved into the top?”

 

“No.” Phil joined her by the boxes, his hands reaching out for hers. But Melinda wrapped them around her stomach instead. She didn’t need his comfort right now. She just needed to find that box. “Is it something important?”

 

“Is something the matter?” Her mother joined them, hand reaching out to brush Melinda’s shoulder. “Melinda, what’s wrong?”

 

Phil answered for her. “I think the mover’s lost a box.”

 

The pressure of her mother’s hand increased. “I am sure the box is at home. Must have forgot to put it on the truck.”

 

Phil nodded, trying to put a happy face on this situation by smiling at her. “I’m sure your Mom’s right. I’m sure when she goes back tomorrow it’ll be there in the foyer.”

 

Melinda swallowed, brushing off both Phil’s concern and her mother’s touch. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re right. It’s nothing important, anyway.” She exhaled, painting her face with a smile. “So, are we going out for dinner, or what?

 

“Of course. Let me get my coat.”

 

Melinda stood in the centre of her new apartment whilst her mother and Phil got ready to leave. She heard them whispering by the door as Phil helped her mother into her coat. She just stood, rooted to the spot, looking around her new apartment. Books on the shelf, clothes in the wardrobe, the slight smell of jasmine tea. But without that box, it would never be home.

 

\--

 

They dropped her mother off at her hotel first, before Phil drove on to her new apartment complex. She left him with a smile, a kiss on the cheek, and a promise of pizza to make up for dinner. Melinda had been quiet throughout, leaving Phil and her mother to talk. At least they’d discovered their shared love of big band music. She almost smiled thinking about their conversation on her way back up to her apartment. But as she slipped inside the door, she felt the smile slip from her mouth.

 

Dropping her keys to the little pot Phil had bought her; Melinda slowly peeled off her coat and collapsed to the sofa. As she left, her mother had promised to check the house carefully upon her return. But Melinda knew the box was lost. She’d taken a lot of care to put it on the van. She wasn’t sure _when,_ or even _how._ She just knew it was gone.

 

Hunched over her knees, Melinda felt the first sting of hot tears on her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of them as quickly as possible. But they kept falling. She couldn’t help it. She felt like her heart had been trampled.

 

 _Knock, knock._ “ _Melinda_?”

 

“Phil?”

 

“ _Yeah, sorry, I think I left my key card in your place. I can’t get home.”_

Sighing, Melinda stood up to let Phil inside. She dabbed at her eyes once more, hoping that Phil wouldn’t notice that she had been crying. She gave him a weak smile as she let him in, closing the door quickly behind him. The quicker he got his keys, the quicker Melinda could be alone.

 

“So, where did you think you lost them?”

 

Phil turned to face her, his expression soft and sad as he stared at her. “What was in the box?”

 

“Did my mother put you up to this?”

 

Phil shook his head. “I like to think that I know when my best friend is upset. I was planning to stay after dinner, but when you practically ran out of the car I had to think of something else.” He moved back, heading for the sofa. “So – what’s in the box?”

 

“Nothing.” Melinda shrugged. “A few trinkets, nothing important.”

 

He patted the empty space beside him on the sofa. Melinda took his invitation and sat beside him. She’d said everything she had to say. So it was Phil who spoke first. “I have a box. It’s an old shoe box I decorated in the third grade. It’s got glitter and macaroni stuck on it, things keep falling off. Inside it’s got some trinkets. An old baseball, a couple of Captain America trading cards. A photograph of me and my Dad. It’s a memory box. I can’t remember much about my Dad. But I have that box.”

 

Melinda swallowed harshly, her fingers digging into her knees to stop herself from tearing up. She’d never cried in front of Phil before, she didn’t intend to start now. Yet she found it difficult to keep herself together when she felt his hand brush hers.

 

“The wooden box…was that a memory box?”

 

She gave a single nod. She could talk to Phil. He, more than anyone, would understand. “The box was a gift from my grandfather. My name’s carved in Chinese in the top. Inside is all I have left of my father. A couple of family photographs, some little trinkets he picked up when he worked in Shanghai. His old cigars. Mom hasn’t kept much of him; I think she found it too hard. Now it’s all gone.”

 

Phil’s fingertips were gentle on her shoulder, his hand softly rubbing her shoulder blades. The more she thought about the box, the more she felt like her father had died all over again. This time she was grateful for Phil’s arm wrapped around her. He pulled her back against him, his arms enveloping her in a hug. She didn’t want to break down in front of him. But she knew if she did, she would be safe.

 

“I’m sorry, Melinda. I really am.” She felt his lips linger on the top of her head. “I know it might not seem that way, but not all of your father is gone. There’ll always be a part of him inside of you.” Melinda looked up at Phil, staring up at him in disbelief. “Okay, that was pretty cheesy. But it’s true.”

 

“Thank you, Phil.”

 

They rearranged themselves on the sofa, Melinda’s head resting on his chest. She felt his fingertips play with her hair, gently teasing the dark strands. Her heart still felt like it was breaking. But at least she didn’t feel alone.

 

Phil kissed her forehead, teasing the hair away from her neck. “Hey, how about you tell me about him? All the stories you can think of. What’s your earliest memory of your Dad?”

 

“Okay.” Melinda sat up, looking at Phil as she talked to him. “The earliest memory of my Dad is probably the embassy in Shanghai. I must have been four, maybe five? I remember running through the halls, my new dress all dirty. All the people looked like giants but I was so tiny. Then I remember my father, and I remember him gathering me up in his arms. It was some big occasion, I think my Mother said. All I can remember is my father laughing at the state of my dress, and giving me his jacket to wear. It drowned me, but I remember feeling so special.”

 

“He sounds like a great Dad.”

 

Melinda nodded. “He really was. He used to smoke cigars in the house, used to drive my mother _crazy._ Whenever they would fight – which they didn’t do often – it would always be about his cigars. I hated the smoke, but I loved the smell. Cigar smoke meant my father was home.”

 

Phil grinned, and prompted another story about her father. She kept delving into her memories, trying to pluck out every story she could recall. The places he’d worked at, the trips he’d taken them on. The disastrous family vacation where they had got lost in the forest. The hour grew late, with the stories growing quieter and quieter until Melinda fell asleep. When she awoke, she found no Phil but a blanket resting over her instead. On the coffee table, right in front of her eyes, was a pack of cigars. It was the same brand her father had always smoked.

 

Lighting one up, letting the smoke curl in the air, Melinda finally felt like this was home.  


End file.
